


The things we can't control and the things we try to

by passioniskey



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Inspired by the movie Georgia Rule
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 17:31:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8170033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/passioniskey/pseuds/passioniskey
Summary: Eighteen year old Emma Swan is being shipped off by her mother to Storybrooke, Maine to live with her grandmother for the summer. Being forced to leave her friends and her life of partying and drugs behind in The Big Apple isn't something that sits very well with the teen and if she's going to be forced to stay in Maine of all places then she might as well give them a little hell, right? Emma Swan/Regina Mills pairing. Inspired by the movie Georgia Rule.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written anything in a while but this idea wouldn't stop bugging me. I'm definitely looking for a beta if anyone would be interested aaaaand I'm totally up for a collab or a I write one chapter and you write the next etc. thing and that's probably just me being lazy but I love my story ideas and I'd totally love to be able to read this too, man. Anyway, I hope you guys like it aaaaand.. here. Read.

Tan arms crossed angrily as eighteen year old Emma Swan slouched in the passenger seat of her mother’s Benz, glaring hatefully at the nauseating amount of green that stared back at her. The girl had been alternating between glaring at the world on the outside of the car and the infuriating woman next to her, Mary Margaret Whale, formerly known as Blanchard and also known as her mother. 

If you wanted to get technical. 

Emma had been given her late father’s last name, thank God, and had laughed hysterically when her darling mother and her husband had presented her with the choice of taking his last name. Whale. Emma Whale? Over her cold, dead body.. and even then it would still be a big, heaping 'no',

The ‘Welcome to Storybrooke’ sign flew by and Emma grimaced, pressing her fingers into her temple and leaning against the door. The blonde could already feel the inevitable migraine that would most likely last for the duration of her time in this godforsaken town with these strangers who didn’t know her and who she didn’t have the least bit of interest in getting to know. It wasn’t fair. Nothing was fair. Not her mother, not her stupid husband, and definitely not them shipping her to butt-fuck nowhere to live with her lovely old bat of a grandmother. It was all bullshit.

With another heaving sigh, the blonde sunk further into her seat, lifting her feet and placing them flat with her knees bent on the dashboard as she begrudgingly slouched back into her seat.

“This is a sixty-thousand dollar car, Emma. Feet off.” Mary Margaret said, the first thing she’d said to her since their argument when leaving their condo back in Manhattan. Emma simply cut her eyes at her and scoffed, leaning over and messing with the radio, knowing she’d only be met with static but needing something to do with her hands. “Emma. Feet. Now.”

“You can smoke an entire pack of Newports in it, but my feet on the dashboard are going to be the straw that breaks the camel’s back, huh?” The slim blonde said casually, raising an eyebrow at the cigarette butts in her sixty-thousand dollar ashtray as she extended her legs and crossed them at the ankle. “And you call me a drama queen.”

The exasperated sigh that left her mother’s mouth was nothing new to her. It was the same sigh she’d let out when she found Emma’s stash of pot, slightly similar to when she’d crashed her Porsche, and almost identical to the one she’d give every time she caught her daughter sneaking in way past curfew. The blonde rolled her eyes and angled her body towards the window again, reaching over to crack it slightly because she knew that a cigarette almost always followed that sigh. Emma hated cigarettes. 

As predicted, Mary Margaret did an eyeroll that left no room for doubt as to where her daughter had picked it up and opened the center console with the hand that wasn’t on the wheel to retrieve one of her trusty cancer sticks. 

“You know,” Mary Margaret started, interrupting herself briefly to light the cigarette with a lighter she had pulled from her top. “I wanted to drive so that we could spend some time together, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, and I wanted to fly so that we could get you dumping me in Maine of all places over with, preferably with minimal small talk. Can’t always get what you want, I guess.” Emma snarked, giving the woman a sarcastic smile for good measure because sometimes her mother’s bullshit pissed her off. She did things like shipping her states away for months, cutting off her phone service for said months, and then wanted to engage in ‘girl talk’ on their road trip to hell. 

“For god’s sake, Emma, could you please lose the attitude for two seconds?”

“I don’t know, mom, could you leave me the hell alone for five?” And there was the sigh again.

Thankfully, her mother pulled up to the curb in front of their apparent destination and cut the engine, her retort forgotten as she unbuckled and got out of the car and headed for the trunk causing Emma to sigh. She couldn’t wait to get rid of her. 

Looking out at the traditional two-story house, Emma sighed. Despite vaguely remembering this house from a visit years ago, she didn't want to be here. It was similar to the feeling she'd get as a little kid, shortly after her mom would drop her off at kindergarten. A mixture of dread pooling in the bottom of her stomach and the need to cry. But Emma wasn't one to cry and hadn't been for a while so with a silent ‘fuck you’ to the woman currently pulling her luggage from the trunk and everything and everyone else who had played a hand in this, she got out of the car. 

Coincidentally, her stepping out of the car was matched by her grandmother, Ingrid, stepping out onto the front porch and moving a rock from its resting place with her foot to keep the screen door propped out. The smile on her face was tentative as she made her way toward them. The older woman was dressed simply in worn jeans and a button up, a far cry from what Emma had envisioned but not in a terrible way. Looking at the older woman, Emma could definitely see where she'd gotten her looks from. Ingrid Blanchard was a tall, slim woman, not lacking classically attractive cures at all that her granddaughter had inherited, with cool blue eyes that Emma’s sometimes mimicked and a wide smile. Her features were strong, yet delicate and anyone who looked at her knew she most likely was quite beautiful back in her younger years. Hell, she was still quite the looker. Blonde hair similar to Emma’s own hit mid-back on the older woman and was just as thick as the young teen’s. Genes were a funny thing, Emma thought as Mary Margaret hauled another of her bags onto the curb and paused for a moment as she spotted her mother. Mary Margaret appeared to be the complete opposite of her mother, anyone who knew the two knowing that this was true both in looks and in personality. The younger of the two having fair skin, dark eyes, and long dark hair that only resembled her mother’s in regards to its thickness. Height was also something the two didn't have in common, Ingrid’s daughter not having thrived in the height department as she herself did. Mary Margaret was also built a little more solidly by nature, but of course she had lost a bit of that due to her habit of occasionally considering alcohol a suitable meal when she went through her phases. Let her tell it though and she hadn't had a drink or a cigarette in ages. 

“Hello, hello.” Ingrid breathed as she approached her daughter, both of them hesitantly staring at each other with awkward smiles that made even Emma cringe before the older blonde woman settled for lovingly patting her daughter on the arm since it was obviously clear that neither was going to lean in for a hug. “And you. Look how big you've gotten, darling.”

The sullen teenager didn't bother to hide her eye roll as her grandmother turned her affections in her direction, immediately crossing her arms and heading towards the front door of the house and effectively avoiding the woman who'd started in her direction before she'd taken off. 

“Don't mind her. She's like this all the time. Teenage angst and all the other things that go on in that dramatic little head of hers.” She heard Mary Margaret sigh and in response she flipped her the bird over her shoulder, missing the surprised hand Ingrid placed over her heart and the eye roll from her mother. 

Stepping into the foyer she let her eyes roam as she walked in further and was met by a single step that brought her up onto a landing that presented her with a set of stairs and a hallway that lead to what looked to be the kitchen directly in front of her and the living room to her left. There were little knick knacks and pictures of people she assumed were family, given that her mother and her were pretty estranged when it came to keeping in touch, everywhere. Walking into the living room curiously, a picture on the mantle stuck out the most to her and she walked over and picked it up, a rare soft smile making its way onto her face as she took it in. It was her. Well, the smaller less competent version of her. And Ingrid. The happy little blonde girl in the photo was perched on her grandmother’s lap, smiling incredibly hard at the camera revealing several missing teeth and deep dimples that the blonde still sported. Ingrid had her arms wrapped around her lovingly and was looking into the camera with equal happiness and an identical smile. It was the summer that her grandfather, Leo, had died and her and her mother had come back for the funeral and ended up staying the entire summer halfway to keep Ingrid company and halfway because Mary Margaret had simply needed her mother just as much. Emma, not really caring either way, had loved it. Ingrid adored the little girl and they'd often spend a lot of time in her garden or sitting on the porch together reading or talking or picking each other’s brains. Her grandmother was her best friend that summer. Her mother's drinking had also started that summer.

“You were seven there.” Ingrid informed her casually from the landing at the entrance of the living room, startling her enough for her to clutch at her heart and jump. Placing the frame back on the mantle she whipped around and fixed her grandmother with a slight glare.

“Geez. You scared the shit out of me. Make a habit of lurking around in the shadows like you’re goddamn Michael Myers, grandma?” The blonde complained, running a hand through her hair to remove it from her face and moving forward to take both of her bags from the woman's hands as her mother came through the front door with the rest. 

“We don't swear in this house.” Was all Ingrid said casually, letting go of the bags and leaning back against the wall as she nodded towards the stairs. “Second door on the right.”

Emma rolled her eyes for what felt like the thousandth time since she woke up that morning and struggled up the stairs to the room that Ingrid had indicated, hearing the murmurs of conversation between her grandmother and her mother downstairs. Swinging the door to the bedroom of open, the young blonde tossed her bags next to the door and sighed, placing her hands on her hips and looking around the room. It was a decent size, holding two deep chestnut colored dresses and a nightstand which stood next to a queen sized bed that was help by the same colored frame. The walls were painted a light blue blue and she vaguely remembered suggesting the color to her grandmother as a child and, insert gag here, was kind of touched that the woman had kept the color of the guest room the same. The duvet and the pillowcases were mostly white with beautiful little blue flowers that seemed to be rising upwards. There were little knick knacks in here too, just like the rest of the house and Emma moved to examine one of the little glass birds that rested on the dresser before placing it back down when she heard someone coming down the hall. Turning to face whoever it was, blue-green eyes landed on the sight of her mother carrying in the rest of her bags and dumping the in about the same fashion as Emma did, right next to the others. 

“Alright, so, I'm gonna get back on the road. I'm gonna go meet up with a few friends in Boston and stay there tonight.” She prattled on as if Emma cared, the blonde simply leaning back on the dresser and staring disinterestedly at her mother as the woman pulled out her phone and scrolled and typed away as she spoke. “You'll be fine here. I'll call your grandmother's house phone later to check on you, alright?”

“You really can't wait to dump me, can you?” The blonde scoffed, a sarcastically amused smirk on her face as she moved over to the bed and plopped down on the edge. 

“Emma, honey.. you know I love you. You know we love you, both me and Victor, but.. this'll be good for you. Get you out of the city for a while and away from all of that.. mess, you know?”

“No, mother, I don't know. What I do know is that you couldn't wait to get rid of me. I was fucking up your perfect little marriage with Victor and we can't have that, now can we? Whatever. I don't care. Get out. Bye.” The blonde huffed, pulling her own iPhone from her back pocket and groaning when the same ‘no service’ message was still displayed where her carrier's name should be. 

“Emma..” Mary Margaret sighed, pushing her dark hair behind her hair and opening her mouth to say more before a chime from her phone interrupted her. “Look, honey.. Victor and I both agreed that this would be best. We love you and we only want what's best for you and right now that's being away from all the bad influences and temptations that are back home. Just.. remember our deal, alright? You get through this summer and the Manhattan condo is all yours. No dorm room. Deal?” 

“It's not like you really gave me a choice. Whatever. I said get out.” The blonde said casually, even though the redness in her freckled cheeks and the fire in her eyes gave away how pissed she really was at her mother. The woman was always quick to make a every decision a ‘Victor and I’ and had been ever since she married him when Emma was ten. The infuriating woman had been trying to force a father-daughter relationship on them from the start and it had only gotten more annoying as time went on. 

“I love you, Em.” The woman sighed, pressing a quick kiss to her temple before getting up and walking out of the door, once again immersed in whatever she was doing on her phone. “I'll call!” She called back as Emma heard her heels descending the stairs. 

“Please don't!” The blonde called back just as cheerily before scoffing and flopping backwards onto the bed, thanking the heavens that it was at least comfortable. Bright eyes stared hatefully at the ceiling as she heard another pair of footsteps that eventually stopped at her doorway. 

“Dinner's at seven. You eat at seven or not at all.” Ingrid stated, leaning against the doorway and looking at her granddaughter’s form sprawled about the bed. The blonde didn't even look at her to acknowledge her presence. “I got you a job in town. You start Monday. We'll speak more on the details when you're a little more settled in, alright?”

“I'm not hungry and I'm not working.” The blonde scoffed, swinging her legs where they hung over the side of the bed. 

“I don't have to do more than offer to feed you. Whether or not you eat is up to you, but dinner's at seven. You eat at seven or not at all.” Ingrid repeated simply, eyeing the stubborn girl on the bed sternly. “And if you're going to be living in this house, you will work. The mayor has been gracious enough to do me a favor and let you fill the spot of her secretary while Ashley Boyd is out on maternity leave. She's not going to put up with your bullshit, understand?” 

“We don't swear in this house.” The blonde mimicked, propping herself up on her elbows and fixing the older woman with a smirk. “I don't have to listen to you, you know? I don't listen to Mary Margaret and her delusions and I sure as hell don't have to listen to yours.” 

Ingrid simply shrugged and pushed off from the door frame, turning her back to the blonde and taking a step out of the room. “Dinner's at seven. You eat at seven or not at all. You start work Monday. Goodnight, darling.” She said as she closed the door behind her and her footsteps faded away. 

Emma groaned and rolled her eyes, throwing her middle finger up at the door before flipping back down, placing a pillow over her face and letting out a frustrated scream. 

This was going to be a long summer.


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgot to add my disclaimer last chapter. Here it is: I do not own any of OUAT characters or the Georgia Rule move plot. I just put my own little spin on everything and hopefully it turns out cool. Also, feedback is always appreciated.

Sunlight streamed through her curtains and illuminated the mess of blonde curls as Emma groaned and rolled away from the offending light, shoving her head under her pillow and stretching with a strained moan. Chatter and laughter from downstairs or outside or wherever reached her ears and her brow furrowed as she popped her head up and blindly reached under her pillows for her phone, groaning when she saw the time.

10:34. Way too early for anyone to be up and at ‘em, talking to other people who had to be just as crazy as them no less. If she were being honest, the blonde was kind of surprised that Ingrid hadn’t made her way upstairs to wake her up yet, claiming that ‘they’ didn’t sleep past the sun rising in this house or some equally ridiculous shit. Regardless, she was pretty grateful that that hadn’t been the case because Emma Swan was a lot of things, but a morning person wasn’t one of them. Never had been and probably never would be, maybe due to a lack of effort on her part but she was perfectly content with that. Anyone who had even the smallest desire to wake up before ten o’clock was a class-A freak in her book. 

…

Thirty minutes later with her teeth freshly brushed and her face washed, wild blonde hair whipped behind Emma as she jogged down the stairs in her tiny athletic sleep shorts and a sleeveless Nike t-shirt. Ignoring the noise that she knew was coming from the front porch, the blonde made a bee-line for the kitchen and rummaged around for a few moments before emerging with an apple. Taking a bite from the apple as she opened the screen door, the front door having already been propped open, perfectly manicured feet stepped out onto the porch and took in the sight that met her. Two boys, both dark-haired, are working in the front yard with her grandmother. The smaller one, who can’t be more than five, is kneeling next to her in the garden in front of the porch, smiling and laughing as she helps him cut off the dead leaves. The other one, who has to be around eleven or twelve, judging by the lanky, awkwardness of his form, is mowing the lawn with one of those non-electric lawn mowers. 

Clearing her throat, Emma moves to sit on the top porch step, leaning back on her hand as the other brings the apple to her lips so she can take another bite. “Morning.” She mumbles around a mouthful, licking some fallen juice from her full lower lip. 

Three pairs of eyes turn to her at the same time and they all offer her quick ‘good morning’s. 

“Guys, I’d like you to meet my granddaughter, Emma. Emma, this is Henry and Peter.” Her grandmother says as she gets up from in front of the garden, placing a hand on the smaller ones shoulder, who Emma now knows as Henry and motioning over the other, Peter. “She’s going to be staying with me all summer. She’s from New York.” 

Henry looks at her with inquisitive eyes for a second before looking up at Ingrid, who nods at him encouragingly, and he then makes his way over to the younger blonde and plops down next to her on the porch step. Turning towards her, the little boy straightens his spine and holds out his hand for her to shake. “Hi, Emma. I’m Henry Daniel Mills and I’m four years old. Nice to meet you.” The kid says with all the serious, adult-like grace that he can muster and it earns him a little smile from the blonde. 

“Hey, kid.” The blonde says easily, shaking his little hand and feeling her heart warm a little. The kid was cute, she’d give him that. “Emma.” 

“Peter.” The older one finally piped up, although he looked a little awkward as his eyes tried to figure out where to look. At her braless chest or at bright green eyes that looked on in amusement as the pre-teen obviously struggled with his hormones. “Nice to meet you.” 

“You too, dude.” She said easily, taking another bite from her apple casually and internally scoffing as it made him visibly squirm, his widened eyes glued to her mouth. Poor little guy. 

“I keep an eye on these two on the weekdays usually while their parents are at work, but they usually come over and help me out on Sunday mornings too for a little extra cash, right guys?” Her grandmother says easily, pulling off her gardening gloves and wiping some sweat from her forehead as both boys nod in agreement. “I’ll grab some lemonade for us. It’s hot out here.”

“I’ll help!” Peter says quickly, abandoning the lawn mower in favor of scrambling after her grandmother and avoiding looking at Emma as he passes her and Henry on the porch stairs, the screen door slamming shut after the two of them moments later.

“You’re not gonna go with them?” Emma asks Henry, the little boy still lounging on the stair next to her. 

“No.” He answers simply, big hazel eyes blinking up at her, studying her. “How old are you?” 

“Eighteen.” The blonde answers just as simply, continuing to munch on her apple. She doesn’t come in contact with kids often and she doesn’t really know how to behave around them, being an only child and all, but she doesn’t mind Henry’s curiosity. 

“Do you go to school?” Is his next question as he places his chin in his hands, elbows leaning on his little knees. 

“I did.” The blonde confirms, raising a silent eyebrow at his curiosity. “I got to graduate, or finish or whatever, a little earlier than everyone else because I apparently test well. So, I haven’t been to school since January. I’m going to college in September.” 

“I don’t go to school yet, but college is important.” Henry informed her, nodding his little head as his hair fell into his eyes a bit. “That’s what my mommy says.”

“She’s right.” The blonde confirms with a slight laugh. “Well.. kind of. If you don’t wanna go to college, that’s cool too. Whatever you wanna do, kid.” 

Henry seems to take in this information with a small frown on his face and before he can open his little mouth to ask her what she’s sure will be a million questions Ingrid and Peter come back onto the porch, her grandmother carrying a pitcher of lemonade and Peter carrying glasses for all of them. 

“So, are you two brothers or what?” Emma asks, taking the glass of lemonade from Peter and watching as Henry grasps his with both hands as Ingrid hands him his glass. 

“Nope!” Henry pipes up as Peter quickly shakes his head, turning to pour himself a glass of lemonade. “Peter’s my cousin, right Peter?”

“Right, Henry.” The older boy confirms easily, leaning back against the screen door as Ingrid takes a seat in one of the chairs that decorate the porch.

“Henry’s mother is the mayor, Regina Mills. You’ll be starting work with her tomorrow, Emma. Peter’s mother is Regina’s sister, Zelena Mills. She owns the ranch on the other side of town with her husband, Walsh.” Her grandmother informs her casually, crossing her legs and leaning back in her chair.

“She has horses!” Henry informs her happily, interrupting the snappy remark that was just itching to fall from Emma’s lips at her grandmother’s implication that she’d be working for Regina Mills, whether she liked it or not. 

“Whatever.” Emma muttered, sighing as she got up from the step and placed her glass down in her place, not bothering to take it into the kitchen. Someone would get it. Walking into the house, she made her way upstairs with the intent of taking a shower and getting the hell out of this house, if only for a little peace of mind and a sense of freedom. The blonde wasn’t one who did well cooped up in one place. 

....

Coming back downstairs about an hour later, Emma slipped her aviators on as she ran her hand through her wild hair and stopped to check out her appearance in the mirror that was adjacent to the stairs in the hallway. The blonde was sporting vintage, light wash high-waisted shorts and a black distressed, bleach splattered ‘Yeezus’ t-shirt the was tucked in a little in the front. On her feet were shell toe white and black superstar Adidas and anyone who looked closely enough would be able to see that her socks didn’t match, one bright green and the other neon pink with yellow polka-dots. 

Walking out of the front door, the screen door slamming behind her, Emma simply raised her hand flippantly in farewell and sauntered down the walkway.

“Bye, Emma!” A little voice called from behind her, and despite the attitude that seemed to plague the teen wherever she went, Emma turned around and gave the kid a small smile and raised her sunglasses to wink. 

“See ya, kid.” She called, ignoring the wave from her grandmother in favor of an eyeroll.

The town of Storybrooke wasn’t really much in Emma’s eyes, especially when she compared it to the city where she grew up. There weren’t many things to do she realized, when her feet had eventually landed her in the town square, a clock tower sitting smack dab in the middle surrounded by different shops and places to eat. There was a diner with a sign that read ‘Granny’s’ and an interesting looking pawn shop that had a plethora of little trinkets on display in the window. There was also what looked to be a carpentry shop that she never got to read the name of before she was knocked to the ground by a body that she hadn’t really seen coming, trying to back up a little on the sidewalk to see the sign. 

“Ow, fuck!” The blonde cried as she pushed her sunglasses up to rest on her head, her ass taking the brunt of the fall as blue-green eyes glared up at the guy in front of her in anger. “Watch where you’re going, dude! You almost killed me.” The blonde complained, dramatic as ever and ignoring the hand that tried to help her up and brushing any dirt that might reside on her ass from the fall. 

“I am so sorry.” A deep voice informed her, worried eyes looking at her as if her earlier statement of him almost ‘killing’ her would prove to be true and she’d keel over at any moment. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” The blonde huffed, folding her arms and shifting her weight to one leg and cocking her hip. Taking in the guy that stood in front of her, an eyebrow raised as her eyes ran over his form. Toned arms and a strong chin are what stood out the most and his dark hair was a stark contrast to Emma’s own honey blonde, but all-in-all he was attractive to say the least. “I’m Emma.”

“Neal. Neal Cassidy.” He replied easily, wiping his hands on his jeans before reaching out and offering his hand for her to shake. “Nice to meet you. I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before. You new in town?”

“Eh, kinda. I’m staying here with my grandma this summer.” The blonde said, offering no more information as she glanced behind him and noticed that he seemed to be unloading logs of wood from the back of his car and stacking them in front of the carpenter’s storefront. Stealing a glance up, Emma was able to see that the sign said ‘Geppetto's’ in fancy script. Looking at her line of sight, Neal was quick to explain.

“I’m dropping off some wood for Geppetto from the ranch outside of town. I work there.” He explained as if she cared and moved to grab another bundle of wood. “So, where you from?”

“New York. Manhattan.” Emma said easily, moving over to the pick-up truck and leaning over the side of the bed casually to watch him work. 

“Ah. City girl. How you liking this little town then?” Neal asks with a grunt as he lifts the wood and carries it over to the rest of the pile, dropping it and wiping the sweat that’s gathered on his forehead. Emma just watches curiously.

“I’m not. It’s hell. How haven’t you all died of boredom or… inbreeding or some shit yet?” The blonde scoffed, introducing him to her signature eye roll. 

“I don’t know. Apparently miracles do happen.” Neal laughs easily, not at all phased by Emma’s particular brand of humor. “How old are you?"

“Old enough.” The blonde smirked suggestively, her amusement growing as he blushes and clears his throat uncomfortably. Emma continued to watch him casually as he shut the door to the bed of the trunk with a slam and assumed he was choosing not to respond to her previous comment. “So, this ranch. It has like.. animals and shit?”

“Yes, it does.” He replies, leaning an arm against the previously slammed door and raising an eyebrow at her. It looked better when she did it, the blonde mused quietly. “Horses and chickens and pigs and all that good stuff.” He pauses. “Wanna see?”

…

The blonde ends up in the passenger seat of Neal’s pick-up on the way to the outskirts of town, legs propped out the window and chin resting on her closed fist as the wind blew her already wild hair around her face. She could feel him staring and it made her feel a little smug. An idiot wasn’t something that she was and she knew she was attractive. She’d also admit that Neal was attractive, maybe a little too innocent small town boy for her, but cute nonetheless.

“So, who's your grandmother?” He suddenly piped up, shooting her a curious look that finally met her eyes.

Emma scoffed. “Who’s your grandmother?”

“I’m just asking.” Neal laughed, even though the blonde could see the slight awkwardness to it and knew he was silently wondering if he’d really upset her with his questioning. She rolled her eyes.

“Ingrid Blanchard.” Was all she gave him, re-focusing her eyes on all the green that surrounded them. Maine sure did seem to have a whole lot of it.

“Oh, Mrs. Blanchard! I know her. I used to do some yard work for her when I was was a little younger.” The dark-haired boy explained.

“Yeah, well she has some new little slaves to do her dirty work now.” Emma said easily, pushing some hair out of her eyes.

Neal let out a bark of laughter, and cut his eyes at her. “I wouldn’t call it slavery, per se, but yeah I know Peter and Henry help her out now. I think it’s cool.”

“Of course you do.” The blonde sighed, turning to look at him. “So, what do you do for fun around here? Do you party? Smoke? Drink? Anything that gets your blood pumping even remotely?” She paused. “Besides watching grass grow.”

“I’m a man of God.” He informs her casually, ignoring the raise of her eyebrow pointedly as she lets out a quick laugh. “My girlfriend and I usually meet up with the town’s youth group and we have bonfires and bible study. You know, stuff like that.” 

“You’re kidding, right?” The blonde laughed, her disbelief growing as he shook his head and stared at her with a small smile. “Oh my God. This is great, really.” She laughed.

“You should hang out with us sometime, really. They’re very nice people. They’d like you.” Neal insists, hopeful eyes meeting disbelieving green.

“Have you met me? I’m not nice and I’m definitely not a people person. The last thing you’d catch me doing in this godforsaken town is holding hands around a fire with a bunch of Bible thumpers singing Kumbaya and pledging my first born to Jesus or some shit like that. I’ll pass.” The blonde laughed, rolling her eyes at the absurdity of this situation. Her mother had really dumped her here with these people. Unbelievable.

“Hey, we have fun. Seriously. The offer always stands if you ever change your mind.” Neal said easily, ever optimistic. 

“Whatever. I’m not joining your cult.” The blonde scoffs as the pull onto a long, dirt road that leads to a two-story farm house on top of a hill. The closer they get to the house, the more green eyes can see. A barn is revealed a few yards behind the house and what looks like a stable a good ways to the right of that. “Wow. You weren’t lying when you said it was a ranch.” She muttered, opening her door and hopping down from the truck once he’d pulled up in front of the house and cut the engine.

“Yup. It’s a ranch all right.” Neal laughed, coming around to her side of the truck and motioning for her to follow him. “Come on. I’ll show you around.”

Bright eyes take in everything around her curiously as he leads her around the side of the house, pausing for a brief moment before silently deciding that they’ll be heading in the direction of the stables. “The horses are my favorite part about working here.” He informs her as they finally reach the stables and walks through the large, open double doors.

“I’ve never seen a horse up close... well except the police horses in the city, but I don’t think those count.” The blonde informs him, eyes landing on the few horses whose heads are hanging out of their stalls, eyes on the newcomers. 

“Well, there’s a first time for everything.” Neals said as he approached a sand colored horse and pets him gently on his head, the horse nickering in greeting at him and letting him. “This is Sandy. I named her when Zelena first got her.”

“Creative.” Emma muttered, walking away from him and eyeing the rest of the horses in the stable curiously. There are a few empty stalls and the ones that are occupied all have massive horse heads hanging out of them. All except one. 

Emma approaches the occupied stall curiously and jumps back in surprise when the massive horse inside turns to her and regards her with cautious eyes. He’s huge. His dark brown fur and mane is shiny and it looks like he’s well taken care of. There’s a patch of white on her head that comes down the center and Emma immediately thinks it’s one of the prettiest horses she’s ever seen. The blonde takes a cautious step forward and relaxes a little when the horse takes one towards her respectively and hangs his head out of the stall, Emma taking this as a sign that it’s be okay to pet him. He nickers softly and nuzzles his head against her hand causing her to smile softly and take another step closer. 

“Hi.” She whispers softly, reveling in the moment that her and this animal are sharing. It’s calming. Animals had always been her thing, part of the reason why she’d agreed to come out here with Neal in the first place. People, on the other hand, weren’t really her thing, but animals... animals she understood. They seemed to get her too. “Nice to meet you too, sir.” 

A throat clears and the blonde’s head snaps in Neal’s direction, the horse not paying him any attention as he pushes his head further into Emma’s hand and she absentmindedly indulges him.

“That,” Neal says, coming a little closer but still a good distance away, which causes Emma to raise an eyebrow, gestures a hand to the horse. “Is Rocinante. He belongs to Zelena’s sister, Regina. He’s not usually friendly with anyone but Regina.” 

“No, he isn’t.” A husky voice calls from the entrance to the stables and both sets of eyes move to the figure walking towards them. The woman is stunning, Emma mused silently. Standing at about 5’5, the woman is dressed in predominantly army green riding pants, brown knee high riding boots, and a black expensive looking utility jacket. Glossy dark-brown, almost black, hair falls prettily just past her shoulders and slightly familiar hazel eyes look Emma over just as curiously. Blue-green eyes fall down to full red lips as the woman moves closer, her olive skin tone and bold perfectly arched eyebrows complimenting her face perfectly. She moves with grace as she comes closer, a large brush held in her delicate hand as she approaches them at the stall. The woman is really... pretty. Intimidatingly so, especially up close. “Regina Mills.” That husky voice says and again and it breaks the blonde out of her stupor slightly. 

“Emma.” The teenager nods at her, blushing briefly for some unexplainable reason and removing her hand from the horse before straightening and gaining her usual confidence back a little. She now realizes why the woman’s eyes seemed familiar to her. They’re Henry’s eyes. This is obviously the Regina Mills that her grandmother had told her about. Henry’s mother, whose eyes seem to be inspecting her with an unreadable expression, the same way she’d done to the older woman just a few moments before. “Rocinante, huh? Weird name.” 

“So I’ve been told.” Is all the woman says, her eyes sliding to Neal’s form where he’s shuffling uncomfortably a few feet away. “Mr. Cassidy.” The woman says in greeting, her manners obviously not allowing her to ignore his presence completely but it being obvious that they don’t have much of a relationship beyond greetings, Emma observes.

“Mayor Mills.” He says, nodding back to her in greeting and Emma clears her throat at the awkward tension surrounding the three of them.

“So.. you’re Henry’s mom.” Emma stated, moving to lean against the stall door casually and reaching up a hand to pet Rocinante when the massive horse immediately nuzzles her shoulder.

“You know my son?” Regina asks, eyes doing another sweep over Emma and this time there are many things that Emma sees in her gaze. Suspicion being one of them. 

“Yup. He’s cute.” Is all the blonde offers her before pushing off of the stall door and making her way back towards the way they entered, pushing her sunglasses back down over her eyes. “I was promised pigs, Neal. Come on.” She calls back, paying the mayor one last glance over her shoulders and smirking slightly when she finds her looking right back.


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer in chapter one. trigger warning for mentions of the nature of victor and emma's relationship.

“I’m here to let you know that I won’t be working here this summer.” Emma Swan informed the mayor early on Monday morning, arms crossed and hip cocked. The blonde hadn’t uttered a word of protest when Ingrid had offered to give her a ride in her yellow Volkswagen beetle that morning to her supposed ‘job’. She’d simply rolled her eyes and declined, continuing to poke at the breakfast that her grandmother had made, her irritation beating out her already almost non-existent appetite. The job itself wasn’t really the problem. It was just the fact that it made her stay in the sleepy little town in the middle of nowhere seem more permanent, more real, and it made the blonde’s stomach twist in something akin to anger and betrayal, mostly towards Mary Margaret. It made her feel helpless, the fact that she didn’t have a choice in the matter really, and it was a feeling that Emma Swan could not stand. 

“Well, dear, I’d have to say I agree if you’re going to insist on showing up forty-five minutes late all summer.” Mayor Mills spoke casually, sparing Emma only a short glance over her shoulder as she leaned over the receptionist’s desk in the town hall, appearing to be pointing out something to a very pregnant, blonde woman who was sat in the black, high-backed chair. Emma, who’d rolled her eyes at the woman’s response, took the opportunity to rake her eyes over the mayor’s form with a slightly raised eyebrow. The woman looked good, really good, she’d give her that. Black, point-toe stiletto heels doned the woman’s delicate feet and judging by the red soled bottoms they were just as expensive as they looked. A black pencil skirt that ran out of fabric a few inches above the Latina’s knees hugged her like a second skin, accentuating her classic hourglass figure and her toned ass. White silk was tucked primly into said skirt and the fit of the top was immaculate, hugging in the places it should, one too many buttons undone just to tease and not enough to be seen as inappropriate. Dark hair was shiny and perfectly coiffed, bouncy even, falling easily just past her shoulders.Regina Mills really was a sight to see, she had to admit.   
The blonde obviously hadn’t put in as much effort into her outfit as the dark haired woman, but the teen didn’t look too shabby. High-waisted athletic pants hugged her figure flatteringly and a plain white, short-sleeved white t-shirt was knotted in the front under her breasts, exposing her abs and a hint of her bellybutton. Tan Yeezy Boost’s adorned her feet, courtesy of Victor’s credit card, and a leather mini-backpack was slung casually over her shoulder. Blonde hair was for once, brushed and tamed, straightened and pulled back into a tight ponytail on the crown of her head. Not very office-esque, but decent enough.

“Okay, Ms. Boyd, you’re free to go. Give Sean my regards. Ms. Swan will take over from here.” The brunette stated a few moments later, interrupting Emma’s internal reverie and causing the blonde to scoff as the blonde woman got up and gathered her things. 

“Uh, yeah.. no. I don’t think you heard me.” The teen piped up, eyebrow arching as the mayor turned and leaned back against the desk with a folder in her hand, eyes running over the contents pensively. The blonde was starting to feel as if she wasn’t speaking English.

“It was nice to meet you.” Ashley said with a bright smile directed towards Emma as she made her way out of the office. Green eyes widened incredulously, both of her hands raising in a casual ‘what the fuck’ gesture before dropping back to her her things unceremoniously with a slap. 

“I’m speaking English, right?” The blonde laughed sarcastically, looking over her shoulder at the door that Ashley had just walked through.

“I can assure you, Ms. Swan, that you are speaking English. I’m simply just not interested in hearing what you have to say at the moment. I have work to do.” Regina replied, not bothering to look up from her paperwork a she uncrossed her ankles and stood up straight, sauntering in the direction of two large double doors that led to what Emma assumed was her office. With an audible scoff, the blonde followed after her and found herself in a large office with black and white accents. It was very simplistic and tasteful, in Emma’s opinion, but that’s not what was holding the majority of the young blonde’s attention at the moment. 

“So, that’s it?” She asked, almost cautiously, walking further into the office towards the large desk opposite the double doors where the mayor had moved to sit. “I can leave? Just like that?”

“I’ll be honest and inform you that I’d prefer it if you didn’t, Ms. Swan, since it _will_ leave me without an assistant for the time being but I’m sure I’ll manage. I can assure you that I’m a _more_ than capable woman, dear.” The older woman informed her casually, finally taking her attention off of the papers she held in her hands and looking up at the petulant teen who was stood across from her. “Do tell me though, dear, what other plans do you have in my town that are pressing enough that you simply can not bear to work here? Your grandmother informed me that you’d be here all summer, no? I can’t really imagine that there’d be much for you to entertain yourself with here in Storybrooke, but if you’ve found something more worthy of your time then, please..,” The mayor leaned back in her chair with a curious smirk on her face as her hazel eyes regarded the teen curiously. “Share.”

Blue-green eyes narrowed slightly, regarding the mayor with a hint of annoyance at the woman’s words because she was right. The blonde really didn’t have much to do with her time all day. Neal, the only person that resembled a ‘friend’ to her in this town, worked all day. That left Emma to either wallow in self-pity and boredom with Ingrid all day or to spend her days at the town hall with the mayor. The second option was starting to look a lot more appealing the longer she thought about it. The blonde hated to admit it, but Regina intrigued her. The beautiful, aloof mayor wasn’t someone that Emma could read well. She also didn’t seem to be affected at all by the blonde’s attitude. That was.. new. It made her want to figure her out a little, maybe get under her skin. 

So, the blonde ended up shrugging casually. 

“Whatever.” The blonde sighed, her ponytail whipping behind her as she turned and sauntered out of the office and back to the desk that Ashley Boyd had just vacated, trying her hardest not to roll her eyes at the husky chuckling that she could hear from the mayor’s office and definitely ignoring the chills that it sent down her spine. 

…  
Long legs were crossed and propped up on the admittedly roomy desk as the teen slumped in the ridiculously comfortable swivel chair, face buried in a book of poetry that she’d brought with her. It was something she always had on her, a defining feature if you will. Ever since she could read, the intelligent girl had always carried a book with her. Not a lot entertained her mind, but a good book always did the trick when it came down to it. A full bottom lip was captured by perfect white teeth in concentration, a habit that the blonde had yet to try and kick even though her mother constantly reminded her of how _unbecoming_ it was of a young lady. 

_you pull the lump_  
in your throat out  
with your teeth  
and say fine  
numb really 

_Milk and honey_ by Rupi Kaur. A book that had been in Emma’s possession ever since she’d received it as a gift from Lily and she’d never admit it but it was one that meant a lot to her. It was something she could relate to, it had a message that she could take something valuable away from and she was trying to. At her own pace, yeah, but it was a start.

“What’s that you’re so immersed in, dear?” A husky voice reached her ears and green eyes snapped up to meet hazel, the mayor leaning against the double doors of her office and looking curiously at the book that was held in Emma’s hands. 

Casually, but quickly, the blonde closed the book and tucked it back into the front pouch of her backpack. “Nothing. What’s up?” She asked casually, unable to keep her eyes from raking over the mayor’s form before meeting her eyes again. 

“I’d like you to go and get lunch for us from Granny’s, dear. Here.” The woman informed her after a moment’s silence, eyebrow arching and eyes flickering to Emma’s back at the girl’s dismissal of her question, and closed the distance between herself and the desk to hand the blonde a shiny, black credit card. “I’ll have the chicken salad. They’re aware of my usual side order and drink. Get whatever you’d like, dear.”

“Oh, so I’m your errand girl this summer, hm?” The blonde asked easily, taking the offered credit card with a smile and standing, stretching with her arms over her head. Green eyes didn’t miss the way hazel eyes quickly slid over the teen’s lithe form and Emma internally smirked. 

“Go on and get our lunch, Ms. Swan.” The mayor replied with a small reluctant smirk, rolling her eyes at the young blonde as she turned to re-enter her office. “Do try and make it quick.”

“Yes, Madam Mayor.” The blonde husked mockingly, a playful smile on her lips as she exited the through the door, set on retrieving the older woman’s lunch.

…

Granny’s was, surprisingly, busy. The lunch hour was obviously a high point for the little town and Emma found herself having to take a seat at the counter and wait for someone to come and help her out. Curious eyes scanned the old-time themed establishment, from the jukebox in the corner to the waitresses’ uniforms. It was very.. _retro_. 

“Hi, welcome to Granny’s! My name is Ruby. What can I get for you today?” A chipper voice said from in front of the teen and the girl startled for a moment and whipped her head around to face the attractive leggy brunette waitress in front of her, staring at her expectantly. 

“Uh, hi. I’m picking up lunch for the mayor. Chicken salad, I think she said.. and her ‘usual’ sides. I think that’s supposed to mean something to you?” An amused eyebrow was raised at her as Ruby nodded and then took a second to seemingly take her in, brown eyes looking her over curiously. 

“Yeah, I got it.. you’re new in town, right?” Ruby stated, grabbing her notepad and taking down her order before pausing and looking up at her. “And anything for you or no?”

“Uh.. yeah.. to both questions, I guess.” The blonde answered slowly, drawing out her answer slightly and quickly glancing around the bustling diner. She wasn’t actually sure if she was in the mood for lunch, but it’d be odd to bring back lunch for Regina and not pick up anything for herself. “I’ll just take a.. grilled cheese if you have it. And a bottle of water.” 

“Cool, gimme one sec.” The seemingly energetic waitress stated, quickly scribbling on her notepad before disappearing into the kitchen to hand off the order, only to exit a few moments later and lean against the counter in front of the teen once again. “So.. Emma, right?”

“How do you figure?” The blonde asked casually, an eyebrow arching in amusement at the waitresses’ interest in her as she handed over the mayor’s credit card. 

“A few friends of mine saw you riding around with Neal Cassidy yesterday. Word travels.” Ruby grinned, flashing her pearly whites at her and leaning in a little closer as if she were sharing some juicy secret. “They were concerned about some hot blonde riding around with Tamara’s boyfriend so it’s definitely been sort of a hot topic.”

“That’s cute.” The blonde said disinterestedly, smirking at the brunette a little and leaning forward to match her position. “I’m flattered that you guys are so concerned about little old me and what I’m doing.”

“No. Not really _‘you guys’_. I don’t care what he does either way. Tamara and I don’t really get on that well and Neal isn’t my boyfriend.” The brunette said easily, ignoring Emma’s sarcastic tone in favor of handing her her drinks, another waitress having placed them on the worktop behind the counter. She then moved a few steps over to the register to charge her before returning to hand the blonde the credit card back. “So, what’s the deal, blondie? Where’re you from?”

“Manhattan.” She replied easily, idly running her finger along the condensation on the side of the cold water bottle that was sat next to Regina’s iced tea. “It’s _Emma_ , by the way. Pass it on.” The blonde smiled a little sarcastically, adding a teasing bump of her eyebrows at the last bit. She didn’t know what to make of the brunette yet and so her guard was up. Also hearing that she was associated with a group of apparently gossip ridden girls wasn’t a point in the brunette’s favor. The clique thing _wasn’t_ Emma’s thing. It made her uncomfortable. Ruby was kind of making her uncomfortable, although she’d rather not admit that fact. Knowing that there was a group of girls going around town gossiping about who she spent her time with was knowledge she really could’ve gone without. 

Ruby’s look softened at her tone, seemingly sensing the blonde’s discomfort to some degree, but before Ruby could say anything to clear things up a bag was placed on the counter in front of Emma by an older woman, presumably Granny.

“Quit gossiping and bus a few tables, Ruby. I need you out on the floor.” The older woman stated, placing napkins in the bag for the blonde and shooting her a quick smile. “Enjoy, sweetie. Tell Regina I said hello, alright?” 

...

The rest of the day had gone by without a hitch, Regina giving Emma small tasks here and there that she needed assistance with. The blonde had never even used a copier or a fax machine before her position with Regina, but the brunette had showed her briefly and it was easy enough to follow, or rather Regina was easy enough to follow. Everything about the brunette seemed to draw her in for some reason. The way she smelled, vanilla and lavender, the way she spoke, all husk and rasp and a hint of superiority. It was just downright sexy, the way the mayor carried herself and it made Emma enjoy being around her. It made her want to get to know her a little better beyond all that, no matter how annoying that made the teen at herself. By the end of the day, the blonde was beginning to think that spending the summer in the town hall with Mayor Mills wasn’t going to be as hellish as she’d originally thought. 

Somehow, the two had ended up walking out of the town hall as a unit, Regina having told her that she could go as she herself had been gathering her things to leave for the day. 

“Are you headed home, dear?” The mayor asked casually as they descended the stairs in the front of the building. 

“Yeah, I guess. You kinda pointed out that there isn’t real shit else to do around here.” The blonde sighed distractedly, digging around in her bag for a few moments before pulling out her sunglasses and slipping them on her face. It was around four and the sun was still shining high in the sky, beating directly down on her face. 

“Please refrain from swearing when you speak to me, Ms. Swan.” The mayor said primly, the slight curl to her upper lip telling anyone who looked that she really didn’t care for the blonde swearing in her presence. The brunette approached a sleek, black Benz that was parked in front of the town hall and it beeped as she walked around to the driver’s side door and placed a hand on the handle. “I’ll give you a ride. I need to pick up Henry from your grandmother so I’m headed that way anyway. Get in.” 

Shrugging, the younger of the two got into the car, placing her bag by her feet and reaching for the radio as the brunette started the car only to have her hands swatted away by the mayor. 

“I think not. Must you touch things that do not belong to you, dear?” Regina asked, a slight hint of amusement in her tone as she glanced over her shoulder before pulling out of the parking space and heading in the direction of her grandmother’s house. 

“Maybe.” The blonde smirked, leaning back in her seat casually and turning her head to face the brunette in the driver’s seat. “So, are you married?”  
The mayor stiffened slightly and glanced at Emma briefly before refocusing on the road. “Not anymore, no.”

“So, you're divorced?” The blonde pushed, reading the older woman's body language curiously. She looked uncomfortable and the blonde could almost physically see her guard go up. It only served to make her more curious. 

“You seem to be under the illusion that I owe you some kind of insight into my personal life, Ms. Swan. I can assure you that that is not the case.” Regina told her without faltering, turning to raise an eyebrow at Emma briefly. “I can assume you've heard of the cat whose curiosity was his demise?”

Pulling up in front of her grandmother’s house, the mayor shifted the car into park and unbuckled her seatbelt, the young blonde doing the same and stepping out of the car along with her. Ingrid, along with Peter and Henry, were sitting on the porch drinking lemonade and chatting from the looks of it. All three of them looked over at the sound of the car doors closing and Henry perked up considerably when he saw who it was. 

“Emma, hi!” He called excitedly, getting up and coming down the stairs to meet the blonde and his mother as they approached the porch. The boy’s shaggy brown hair was tousled and he looked as if he’d been playing outside all day, but he was still packed full of energy. 

“Hey, dude, what's up?” Emma said, unable to refuse returning the kid’s enthusiastic smile. She could feel Regina's eyes burning into the side of her face as she gave the four year old a two-handed high five. “You didn't let her drive you crazy today, right?” The blonde asked cheekily with a nod in the direction of Ingrid as she leaned on the railing on the porch stairs. “Otherwise I’m next.”

“Hello to you too, Emma. Regina.” Ingrid greeted them both as she stood with a groan. “It was actually these to that wore me out all day today. Isn't that right, boys?” 

“Hello, Ingrid.” The mayor greeted the woman warmly, causing the blonde to raise an eyebrow because warm wasn't really an adjective that she'd been able to associate with the brunette so far. 

“Henry, don't I get a proper hello? Or am I chopped liver next to Ms. Swan?” She asked with a smile, opening her arms to the little boy who instantly hopped from the top stair into her waiting arms, hugging her tightly around her neck. Emma silently observed the woman as she positively melted at the young boy’s affection, returning his hug with equal gusto. There was more of that warmth that the young blonde was unaccustomed to seeing on the usually aloof mayor. 

“Hi, mommy! You know Emma!” The little boy cried, pulling back a little to look between the two of them with a smile, eyebrows furrowed a little as he looked between the two of them. 

“I do.” The brunette confirmed, smiling at him fondly before glancing over at Emma as well with the same furrow in her eyebrows as Henry. It was kind of weird, seeing them sporting the same expression with their faces directly next to each other's. 

A horn honking caught all of their attention, a silver Porsche SUV pulling into the driveway and an attractive redhead hopping out and strutting over to them causally. Emma's eyebrow raised as the mayor allowed the woman to kiss her cheek and tickle Henry’s belly affectionately, causing the boy to giggle. 

“Hello, darling.” The woman murmured to the mayor and the blonde felt a weird feeling run through her as Regina nodded her greeting and offered a slight smile in return, but she ignored it as she continued to observe from the sidelines. “Ingrid, how are you?”

“I'm fine, thank you. I wasn't expecting you today. I thought Walsh was going to be getting Peter?” The older blonde woman said easily, placing a hand on Peter’s shoulder who was still sat in one of the porch chairs. The boy waved casually at the red-headed woman who smiled back at him fondly. 

“He had a few things to take care of in Boston today so it'll just be Peter and I for the next few days. You ready, darling?”

It all suddenly started to click in Emma's head and she silently nodded to herself, looking between both of the Mills women and their children curiously. This had to be Zelena Mills, Peter’s mother. Regina’s sister. Owner of the ranch that Neal worked at. The whole small town thing was really starting to annoy her. Was everyone connected in some way or another? 

“Actually, would you all like to join us for dinner? I’ve put some chicken in the over and it’s just me and Emma here to finish it.” Ingrid offered easily, her eyes flickering over to Emma and ignoring the eye roll that she received from the blonde. 

“I would love to, Ingrid, but I must be going. I’ve got a little paperwork to catch up on after I get Henry all settled. Thank you though. I’ll catch up with you a little later. Say goodbye, Henry.” The mayor said politely, smiling fondly at the little boy as his cheeks dimpled with his smile and his little hand waved at them all.

“Bye! Bye, Emma!” The little boy called as his mother turned and walked them both back towards her shiny, black car. The blonde chuckled at her separate goodbye, waving awkwardly at the kid who had seemingly taken a liking to her for some reason unbeknownst to her. 

“We’d be happy to join you, Ingrid.” Zelena agreed easily, walking up the porch steps and over to Peter, leaning down to place a kiss on his forehead before turning to face Emma.   
“I’m Zelena Mills, by the way. You must be the Emma that your grandmother has told me so much about. Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too.” The blonde said easily, suddenly disinterested in this little family reunion now that that Regina and Henry had gone, gliding up the porch steps and past her grandmother, opening the screen door and going inside. 

…

Dinner wasn’t the worst, Emma just simply wasn’t a family dinner kind of person. Dinner at the Whale house had been very different. On the rare occasion that her mother did insist that they sat down and ate as a ‘family’, the blonde spent the entire dinner too tense to eat, constantly avoiding Victor’s eyes and if he was feeling particularly bold, his hands on her thighs. Mary Margaret was always too busy with her wine, and eventually too drunk, to notice. Needless to say, those dinners weren’t her favorite. 

“So, Emma, I hear you plan on studying at NYU in the fall. That must be exciting.” Zelena’s voice startled Ema out of her own internal musings as the blonde pushed the food on her plate around in circles. She hadn’t really been engaging in the conversation thus far, preferring to sit in silence and tune in to listen every now and again. What did she really have to talk to them about? Small talk wasn’t her thing. It brought out a side of her that was.. well, awkward.

“Uh.. yeah. That’s the plan.” She replied with a small smile, glancing up briefly to see emerald green eyes looking at her expectantly. It was really hard to see the resemblance between this woman and Regina, but she supposed there were small similarities. The way the women carried themselves for one, with a regal and poised air about them, and the way they spoke, all prim and proper, Regina more so than Zelena. “You and Regina are sisters, right?”

“We are.” The redhead confirmed with an amused smirk, seemingly knowing where the blonde’s mind was at without her having to say so out loud. “Half-sisters if you’d like to get technical. I’m older by five years. We have different fathers, same mother.”

“Ah, got it. That explains a lot.” The blonde said, nodding in understanding as her mind stored that information away. “She’s divorced, right? What’s up with that? Who’s the guy?” The blonde asked suddenly as the conversation came to a lull, ignoring the sharp look that her grandmother sent her and meeting Zelena’s raised eyebrow with a solid stare. Emma was curious. Small town gossip seemed to be a thing here, anyway, so why not use some of it to her advantage?

“You’re a curious thing, aren’t you?” The redhead hummed in amusement, regarding the teen with an unreadable look in her eyes as she sipped at her wine. 

“Be respectful, Emma. It isn’t really your place to be asking.” Ingrid chimed in from her place at the head of the table to Emma’s right. Zelena was sat across from Emma, Peter on her left as he steadfastly ignored the blonde across the table. 

The blonde huffed and sat back in her chair, crossing her arms once she’d let her fork drop to her plate with a clang. “Why? What’s the big secret?” The teen asked, slightly annoyed that she was being chastised for asking about a topic that she hadn’t known was touchy. 

“Regina’s wife, Mallory, died in a car accident three years ago. She took it really hard. It’s just her and Henry now.” Zelena informed her, sipping at her wine again casually as her eyes pinned the blonde in place as if daring her to say something out of line.

“Shit.. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” A genuine feeling of regret passed through the younger blonde as she pursed her lips and looked away from the woman across from her, her mind reeling. Not only had Regina had a wife, but she’d died. Suddenly, the blonde felt really bad for pushing. 

“Well, maybe that’ll teach you to keep from putting your foot in your mouth, yeah?” Ingrid said easily, offering her a small comforting smile as she placed a hand on the teen’s forearm and the the girl was slightly grateful for her grandmother in the moment because it was obvious that she was taking some of the heat off of Emma, lightening the mood. 

“Now, go on and eat your dinner. You haven’t touched it all night, don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

“You’re fine, dear. You just probably shouldn’t bring it up with my sister.” Zelena replied easily, obviously having seen that the teen was genuinely sorry and moving on. 

“Yeah..” The blonde said quietly, almost to herself as they continued to eat dinner in silence until the phone rang and the blonde jumped at the opportunity to do something other than sit at the table with them and participate in the awkward silence. “I’ll get it, grandma.” She said easily, standing and neglecting to notice the small smile that her title for the woman had put on her face. 

Moving into the kitchen the blonde bounded over to the house phone that was mounted on the wall next to the doorway that lead to the dining room and answered. “Hello?”

“Emma! Hi, honey, how are you?” Her mother’s voice rang through the line, causing a frown to immediately mar her daughter’s face. The last thing she wanted to do was speak to Mary Margaret at the moment. 

“Hey. Did you wanna talk to grandma?” The blonde deadpanned, already stepping to place the phone down on the top of the end table that was next to the doorway. 

“No, sweetheart! We can talk! I haven’t spoken to you since I dropped you off! How is it? How are you?” The woman rattled on before there was a murmur in the background and Mary Margaret laughed easily and spoke into the receiver again, ignoring Emma’s delay in answering her questions. “Victor sends all his love. Did you want to speak with him too? We could do speakerphone! We miss you so much, Emma.”

“Grandma! Mom wants to talk to you!” The blonde called immediately, ignoring her mother’s sigh on the other end of the line as she quickly put the phone down and exited the kitchen, walking past the occupant’s of the dining room table quickly and ignoring her grandmother’s curious gaze. She could feel how red her face was and her heart was beating a little faster than normal. A small smile was flashed at them all before she disappeared out of the room and up the stairs, ignoring her full dinner plate. She could hear her grandmother greet her mother on the phone from the kitchen as she made her way upstairs and she sighed. 

Her act of avoiding her mother’s calls probably would just be seen as typical teenage rebellion, and that was fine with her, but the truth was that the blonde couldn’t stand the fact that her and Victor seemed to be attached at the fucking hip. She refused to talk to her mother if it meant she had to speak with him too. Mary Margaret was hard pressed to make them a ‘family’, driven by the unbelievable amount of love that she harbored for the man, but what she didn’t know was that her ‘perfect’ husband had ruined that chance for them a long time ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was kind of a filler chapter but I'm trying not to rush this story. it'll flow a lot smoother and be much more enjoyable, in my opinion, if I take my time. trust me, I hate writing filler chapters as much as you guys probably hate reading them. also, i'm always open to suggestions so.. comment if you have any or gimme some kudos if you think i'm doing just fine.


	4. four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: I love you guys’ reviews. I really really do. I am, however, looking for a beta. Please PM me if you’re interested. I wanna be able to give you guys the best chapters that I can and I can’t seem to do that with all these typos driving me crazy. I also use direct quotes from the movie in this chapter. This is also my shortest chapter yet, but only because it’s about to get really juicy.  
> Trigger warning: mention of molestation.

The Storybrooke Miner’s festival was a tradition that’d been in effect since anyone living there could remember, according to Ingrid. All the townspeople came together for a huge barbeque in town square, much like a New York block party, Emma quickly surmised. It was something to do, so when Ingrid asked her to attend and help out with their booth, she had agreed easily, much to the older blonde’s surprise. 

And that’s how Emma ended up being escorted by her grandmother through the rather lively festival on a hot Saturday afternoon, letting herself be introduced to a plethora of Ingrid’s small town counterparts. The was Granny, who she’d met, and her granddaughter Ruby who she’d also met, the latter whom was much more polite to Emma this go around. Archie, a short, meek middle aged redhead man, who was apparently town’s trusty psychiatrist. Emma was sure there were a lot more people whose names that she should probably remember since her grandmother had spent at least twenty minutes, much to her granddaughter’s frustration, speaking to each person individually. The blonde stopped trying to keep up after the fourth person. She’d see them again, she was sure, being that Storybrooke was the size of her damn thumb. 

Finally, ingrid leaves Emma to her own devices and the bright eyed girl finds herself wandering aimlessly through the crowd and people watching when two little arms wrap around her thighs from behind and an excited cry of her name reaches her ears. 

“Henry!” An attractively deep female voice calls from behind her as well and it all quickly clicks for her. 

“Hey, dude!” The blonde says easily, turning around in the kid’s hug and playfully ruffling his hair as he lets go of her. His mother then came into sight, looking as weirdly perfect as ever. The shorter brunette woman was dressed way more casual than Emma was used to seeing her. Khaki shorts showed off tan legs nicely, so nicely that Emma could not and would not deny herself the opportunity to drink them in in their entirety. A gray t-shirt with HARVARD written in red bold letters doned her top half flatteringly and her small feet were for once enclosed in something other than heels, the mayor had chosen some grey Nike running shoes instead. But the most surprising accessory to Emma was the blue Nike baseball cap that adorned the woman’s head. She looked.. cute. 

“Mommy look it’s Emma!” The short kid cried excitedly, grabbing onto Emma’s hand, which she allowed easily enough. She’d never get why this kid seemed to like her so much, but she’d take it. 

“I see, dear, but you don’t run off from mommy, remember? I could lose you in a big crowd like this and then who would I give your desert to after dinner time at home, hm?” The dark haired woman said easily leaning down to kiss his forehead before straightening and looking at Emma with a smirk. “Emma, dear. I assumed you were too ‘cool’ for any event my little town had to offer. What a surprise.”

“Madam Mayor.” The blonde greeted with a smirk. She loved their banter and couldn’t help but smirk before it even began. “You assumed right. I am too cool for this shh-tuff.” Blue-green eyes shifted quickly to Henry, who was watching the crowd around them instead of the two women next to him. “But what else is there to do? You look cute, by the way. You’re giving me sexy, small town soccer mom vibes.”

“Oh do bite me, Ms. Swan.” Regina answered with a smirk, already accustomed Emma’s sense of humor due to work and not minding it at all beyond her usual annoyance. She could give just as good as she could take it. Dark eyes swept over the younger woman’s appearance briefly and Emma felt her face heat up despite the fact that she hated that Regina could get that response from her. Emma was in simple, tight, distressed high-waisted shorts and an oversized gray t-shirt that she’d tucked in sloppily. Her trust white adidas adorned her feet and her hair was in two messy french braids. 

“Mommy, can we go to ride the ponies? Can Emma come? You wanna ride a pony, Emma? Can we, mommy?” Henry chose that moment to interrupt them, obviously not as entertained with their banter as Emma was.

“Sure, buddy. I’ll come.” Emma said easily, smiling down at him. She wasn’t doing anything else so why not?

After Regina agreed to indulge Henry and watch him ride the ponies, the three of them set off in the direction the small petting zoo that had been set up on the other side of the festival, Henry chatting happily about any and everything to them both as he held both Emma and Regina’s hands. 

As they stood there and watched Henry ride around in circles on the white pony that he’d chosen to ride, Emma spotted Neal playing basketball with a bunch of other guys and when he looked up and spotted Emma he waved excitedly, getting a smirk and a two-fingered wave from Emma in return. 

“You know, Mr. Cassidy, is very dedicated to his Godly beliefs. He’s set to go on a mission with the church after this summer comes to an end.” Regina said after a moment, having noticed the interaction. 

“Okay? I’m not stopping him.” Emma stated easily, raising an eyebrow at the darker haired woman. 

“Oh, but you definitely could.” The brunette said easily, waving at Henry as he waved at them excitedly from his pony, the instructor next to him leading him around in circles that he seemed to love. 

Emma pursed her lips for a moment and considered what Regina, deciding that she wasn’t at all offended after a moment. More so flattered that the woman thought her charm was the strong. “Are you into all the Godly shit?” The blonde asked after a moment of silence.

“My sister and her family are.” Regina replied, leaning on the top of the fence and turning her head to regard Emma curiously. “Im taking a bit of a break.”

“Is Ingrid into all of that?”

“Not that I know of, but I do know that she has a lot of the same family values.” The brunette answered her easily, her eyes scanning the crowd briefly. 

“Hm.. people do what they wanna do.” Emma surmised, nodding her head as she glanced around.

“Sometimes what they don’t.” Regina agreed, her eyes traveling over to the game of basketball once again. “I don’t think I’m sure that Neal could survive you, Ms. Swan. Not sure at all.”

“Please. Don’t lecture me about what I can and can’t do, Regina.” Emma said, her brows furrowing a bit despite her easy going smile before sobering a little. “Anybody can do anything to anyone. You can’t stop what’s done to you. You can only survive it.”

“What exactly do you know about surviving, Ms. Swan? You’re young.” Regina said, raising an eyebrow at the young blonde condescendingly. “You’re stuck in my town for the summer in Maine, yes, but it’s not the end of the world. You don’t have a clue about surviving, dear.”

“Oh, because you wrote the book, right? Guidelines for surviving a rough life, right? You’ve got a dead wife and that makes you an expert, right? Well, congratulations. We can all tell.” The blonde snarked, her face for once very serious as she turned her intense stare to the older woman. She knew nothing about her. “You know I was twelve years old when my step dad started having sex with me? We all have our shit, it’s how you deal with it that really fucking counts. You don’t have to be so damn sad all the time to be a ‘survivor’.”  
And with that and pushed off of the fence roughly and stormed off, getting lost in the crowd easily as Regina stared after her in shock.

...

Neal Cassidy was a strange guy, Emma had come to realize. The blonde teen had come out of Ingrid’s house at around noon to find the dark-haired boy waiting for her, leaning against the side of his pick-up truck like him picking her up was the most normal thing in the entire world. The blonde had seen him a few times during her stay in Storybrooke; on her lunch runs to Granny’s, when he stopped by the house to move a few heavy things around for Ingrid on Wednesday, etc. All chance encounters, not him showing up. So, this was odd.

“You stalking me now, Neal?” The blonde snarked with a small smile as she descended the steps of the front porch towards him and his pickup truck. “You know if wanna see my tits all you’ve gotta do is say so.”

“I’m not here for.. that.” The blushing boy stuttered and blushed, causing the blonde to smirk in victory that her teasing was getting to him. It was becoming one of her favorite pass time to fuck with Mr. Neal Cassidy. She could see that the guy was genuinely as innocent as he seemed and it was a fun little game, seeing how many times she could make him blush each time the encountered each other. “I actually wanted to see if you’d wanna go fishing with me.”

“Fishing?” Emma said skeptically, her top lip curling a little in disgust art the idea of handling cold, dead, slimy fish with her hands.. or any other instrument. But then again.. what else was there to do in Storybrooke?

…

And that’s how Neal Cassidy and Emma Swan ended up in the middle of the Storybrooke lake on the Sunday morning after the festival, Neal with a fishing pole in hand and Emma with her sunglasses planted firmly over her eyes and milk and honey in her hands as she refused to participate, but instead took pleasure in asking Neal any and all questions that her devious mind could come up with to make him squirm. 

“So this ‘Godly living’ thing. What’s up with that?” The blonde asked curiously, her legs crossed and tossed over the side of the boat, effectively allowing her sundress to expose her thighs to the boy next to her. 

“Whats up with it, huh?” Neal asked with an easy smile, shifting a little in his seat as he glanced at the blonde next to him. “Well.. I suppose it's just me making a commitment to God. The usual. No sex before marriage-.”

“Dude, no way!” Emma cut him off with a laugh, raising her eyebrows at him. This was too good. “You’re a virgin?”

“Well, yes. I am.” Neal replied, no shame in his game, and Emma rolled her eyes. Of course he was a virgin. She supposed that made her slow corruption of him a little bit more fun though. “Are you?”

“That’s a joke, right?” The blonde asked incredulously. She knew he was innocent and all, but last time she checked no one would ever accuse her of giving off ‘virgin’ vibes. 

“Well, I’m set to head off on a mission for the church after the summer’s over and after I come back I plan on marrying my girl, Tamara. So, I won’t be a virgin for too much longer.”

“So I’ve heard. How long is this ‘mission’?” The blonde asked, genuinely curious.

“Two years.” The dark haired boy said informatively, not at all bothered by the disbelieving scoff that Emma let out. 

“Two years without sex? You’re serious?” The girl asked incredulously. There were so many things about this kid that were just odd to Emma. She had to ask questions, not to make fun, but just to hear for herself that someone her age was genuinely into stuff like this. 

“As a heart attack.” He answered easily, nonplussed by her attitude. “It’s not like I know what I’m missing.”

“So.. you’ve never even looked?” She asked, suddenly mischievous, a little curious as to how she could swing this.

“I.. huh?” 

“Do you want to?”

“Uh.. look, we should really be heading back.” The dark haired teen stammered and his eyes widened when the blonde began to peel off her thong from underneath her dress, but he didn’t stop her either. The blonde slowly spread her legs and her dress rose along with them, adding so much color to Neal’s face that the girl was sure his head would explode at any second now. She was watching him closely as she finally exposed herself to him, studying his every reaction. 

“You can touch if you want to.” She told him, her voice low and breathy as she stared intensely at him from under her lashes. 

Dark eyes looked into green ones hesitantly and the boy’s tongue peeked out to wet his lips nervously as he shakily shifted forward in the boat, rocking it a bit. His hand landed on the smooth expanse of her thigh and Emma’s gaze shifted towards the sky as she tried to lose herself in the shape of the clouds and not the feel of the male hand traveling up her thigh and the thoughts and memories that they awoke. When that proved to be futile, the blonde snapped her thighs closed with a cheshire grin, trapping his hand and moving her eyes from the clouds to look at him mischievously. “Now it’s my turn.”

“M-maybe we shouldn’t, Emma.. you.. we..” The boy stammered as Emma crawled to her knees in front of him and began to expertly undo his belt. His protests quickly died out once he felt her mouth start working and Emma let her mind wander. Shed done this a million times anyway. It was just like riding a bike.


	5. five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: Thank you to those of you who actually read my author’s notes, but to those of you who don’t.. Yes, this story is based off of Georgia Rule. Yes, I do quote the movie. Yes, I’ve said both of these already. Yes, this is SwanQueen, slowburn but definitely SwanQueen. No more Neal/Emma sexy times though. I promise. That’s over with. I just needed that one scene to prove that what Whale did to Emma really did impact her negatively and blah blah blah. You’ll see, I promise. To make up for it, here’s a quick, juicy next chapter. Alsoooo.. No one wants to beta? Really? You’ll get good sneak peeks?  
> Trigger warning: mentions of molestation.

Ingrid Blanchard liked to consider herself a strong woman. There was no one on the earth that she’d willingly let walk all over her and hers and it was a quality that she admired about herself. The woman was fiercely protective of those that she held dear and rarely did she ever let them see her falter. When people see you falter, it lets them know that you’re not indestructible. It lets them know that you can be broken. That you can be hurt. Ingrid Blanchard wasn’t a woman who liked to make that public knowledge. But she was human. And humans sometimes broke. 

Which is why after the phone call that she received from Regina, that is exactly what she did. Broke. How could she have let this happen? How could her daughter have let this happen? How could the circumstances of life have let this happen? All she could think of was her granddaughter's smile, back when she’d thought her grandmother was the coolest person to have ever graced her with knowledge of the garden and a stuffed dog that quickly became her best friend and how anyone dared to try and take that away from her. That innocence. That happiness that had yet to be touched by the real world before it was time.

And after she broke, she steeled herself, because she was out for blood. From a few people. It’d been too long since someone fought for her little Emma. 

This lead to the head strong woman marching right to her old school house phone, picking it up from it’s place mounted on the wall and dialing her daughter’s number with a specific purpose in mind. 

The first few times that it went to voicemail didn’t deter her at all, she simply left stern, straightforward voice messages telling Mary Margaret to call her back or else.

On her fourth try, her call was answered with an exasperated, “Yes, mother?”

“We need to talk. It’s about your daughter.” Ingrid said without missing a beat, her voice tense and stern, letting Mary Margaret know that she meant business. 

“What did she do?” Was the first thing that came out of her mouth and Ingrid furrowed her eyebrows. Maybe this was why Emma acted the way she did and kept everyone at arm’s length. Because the worst was always assumed of her anyway. “You promised to keep her for the summer, mother. I can’t really take her back at the moment. We have a lot going on here and I just can’t with her.”

“That’s.. not why I’m calling.” Ingrid let out slowly, already trying to work out how to proceed with such a sensitive subject in her head. It wasn’t exactly a conversation she ever thought she’d be having. “Are you alone? Is Victor around?”

…

Later on that night, after her interesting little fishing trip with trip Neal, Emma made the boy drop her off in front of 108 Mifflin Street. The blonde avoided his questions as to why and instead just insisted that he do as she said. Her intentions were very clear in her mind as she walked with a strong purpose up the front pathway to the oversized, white house that everyone knew belonged to the mayor of the sleepy little town. 

Knocking on the door loudly with three quick raps, the blonde then stepped back and folded her arms over her chest as she waited impatiently for the attractive brunette to answer the door. A few moments later, an apron clad Regina swung the door open with a curious look on her face.

“Ms. Swan? What on earth are you doing here?” The woman asked with an eyebrow raised and an unreadable look on her face.

“Hi.” Emma said dumbly, a small smile on her face before she continued on. “I just wanted to tell you that.. all that stuff I said about my stepdad.. I lied. None of it was true.”

“What?” The brunette said, her eyes searching Emma’s briefly before her brow furrows and she leaned a hand against her front door jam. “I’ve.. already called your grandmother and told her what you told me, Ms. Swan. I take things like that very seriously.”

“You what?!” Emma basically shrieked after a few moments of silence, her eyes widening at Regina incredulously. “Why would you do that?!”

“What else was I supposed to do with that information, Ms. Swan? Save it for a rainy day?” The older brunette asked her, matching her incredulous tone of voice. The woman didn’t look the least bit apologetic though. Typical Regina, Emma thought to herself, and for some reason she couldn’t find it in her to dislike it.. or anything about the woman for that matter. But none of that was at the forefront of her mind at that moment in time. 

“Assume I was lying! Everyone else usually does! That’s what I do! I lie! Sometimes you’ve got to lie to make a point! I just-ugh! I can’t believe you told her!” The blonde stressed, running hands through her long blonde hair in frustration. She was in deep shit and this wasn’t something that she wanted to be dealing with this summer. 

“Well.. I believed you.” The dark haired woman stated after a moment, her deep eyes unnaturally soft and wise, forcing Emma to look anywhere but at her. It felt like Regina could see directly through her sometimes and it made the blonde squirm. “Now, would you like to stay for dinner? I’m making lasagna.”

...

And that’s how Emma ended up at the table with the Mills family. The interior of Regina’s house was just as impressive as Emma expected it to be, giving the impeccable appearance of the outside. Very put together, with muted grays and blacks and whites, but with traces of a four year old and a sense of it being.. lived in, for lack of better term.   
The dining room table seating arrangement went as so: Regina at the head of the table and Emma and Henry on either side of her. The latter having put up a fuss about having to sit in his booster to reach the table in front of ‘his friend, Emma’, but eventually gave in when Emma assured him that it was totally fine. Regina had given her a grateful smile, a new, soft one that Emma wasn’t exactly used to as it made her heart stutter a little. Sometimes little things like that reminded Emma that beyond their banter, Regina was an extremely attractive, single, apparently gay woman, if the fact that she'd had a wife was anything to go by. She tried not to think about it too much for the sake of her own functioning and instead focused on Regina’s rolling eyes at the way the teen was sitting in her seat, legs tucked under her and elbow resting on the table. 

“Your table manners are atrocious, Ms. Swan.” A small smirk accompanies her words and Emma’s jaw drops in disbelief as the little boy across from her nods his head in agreement between bites of the, admittedly delicious, lasagna. The smirk that plays on his little face is identical to his mother’s and Emma narrows her eyes at the both of them.

“Dude, you’re a traitor.” Is all the blonde has to say in return, too focused on poking around at her own lasagna. She’d eaten a little more than she usually would, which wasn’t much, but the blonde had hit her limit on fullness. 

“I am not! Mommy says that-” The little boy pauses to gather his thoughts in a typical four year old manner and both of the tables other occupants waited patiently. “Mommy says that mommies come before friends sometimes. We’re still friends though.” The little shaggy haired brunette assures her and she scoffs and rolls her eyes, turning an accusatory look to the mayor at the head of the table.

“You’re poisoning his little brain, Madam Mayor.” The blonde accused matter-of-factly. 

“I’m teaching him to be a gentleman. Right, Henry?”

“Right, mommy.” The boy agrees readily, beaming at her proudly. It would be kind of cute if the triumphant smirk on the mayor’s face wasn’t obnoxiously aimed in her direction.

“Never be confused as to where my boy’s loyalties lie.” The woman smirked, picking up her wine glass and taking a sip of her red wine. 

“You’re building an army.” The blonde smirked playfully, before nodding her head in defeat. “I respect it.”

…

After dinner, Emma actually offered to help Regina do the dishes once Henry had scampered off to play. The surprised look on their town mayor’s face made the blonde roll her eyes and smirk, following her into the kitchen. Once they were in the kitchen, the dark haired woman handed her a dishtowel, letting her know that she’d be on drying duty. Which was perfect because the teen hadn’t really washed a dish before. Not that she was willing to be forthcoming with that information.

“I’m.. sorry about the things I said about your wife and shit. It was uncalled for or whatever. I apologize.” Emma said awkwardly as she took the offered dishrag, biting her lip nervously as she glanced at the older woman and made eye contact to show her how sincere she was. The blonde was well aware of her own tendency to just let things fly out of her mouth when she was upset and for some reason she really didn’t want Regina to think that that’s who she was at core. Because it wasn’t. Life had just made her a little rough around the edges and she knew that she needed to work on it, just didn’t know where to start. 

“Well, what do you know. There might be a heart in there somewhere after all.” Full lips pulled into an easy-going smirk, but Emma saw the fire in her eyes as she turned her head to look at Emma full on. “Know this though, Ms. Emma Swan, there had better not be a next time. I wouldn’t want to be you if that were the case. That isn’t the type of ‘shit’, as you would so eloquently put it, that I will put up with so think before you speak if there happens to be a next time that I upset you.” There was a pause, and then a sigh. “I suppose I apologize too. I let my judgements of you cloud my knowledge that life isn’t kind to everyone and I should not have made any assumptions about yours, given the fact that I know little about it.”

The blonde nodded seriously, accepting the fact that they were both in the wrong and completely willing to get over it. 

“So.. there’s something else you should know before we go any further.” The blonde stated seriously, right eyes regarding the brunette cautiously and she internally smirked at how the older woman’s face tensed at her expression. “I’ve.. never done dishes before.” Her serious expression broke and she let a sheepish smile graced her lips as the brunette gaped at her, a rare expression for her Emma assumed. 

“What on earth am I going to do with you, Ms. Swan?” The brunette asked, almost affectionately, as she rolled her eyes and turned to the sink, flicking the faucet on with a grace that Emma was sure only Regina Mills possessed. 

…

Green eyes watch the mayor’s black Benz pull down her grandmother’s road and she sighs as she turns towards the house, her shoulders slumping as her feet carry her up the porch steps and to the front door. All the lights on the main floor of the house were off and the blonde sighed in relief since that was only the case when her grandmother had gone to bed. 

Opening the front door and heading towards the kitchen to put the leftovers Regina had send her back with, she let out a shriek as the hall light turned on and Ingrid rose from where she’d been sitting on the stairs, obviously waiting for Emma to come home.

Fuck.

“Emma, darling. I’ve been waiting for you.” Ingrid said steadily, descending a few steps so that she was now standing in the hallway with Emma. 

“To scare the shit out of me by sitting on the stairs like a stalker? Congrats. I almost pissed myself, grandma.” The blonde snarked, easily sliding past the woman to make her way to the kitchen to put the leftovers, hoping to God that the woman got the hint and didn’t follow her. 

The old J-man obviously wasn’t on her side that night because Ingrid didn’t miss a beat in following her and Emma felt her own heart jump into her throat as she leaned into the fridge and could feel Ingrid’s presence in the kitchen with her. 

“I’m only going to ask you this once, Emma. Only one.” The blonde woman started and Emma instantly started shaking her head, closing the fridge and going to move around the woman, only to have her pathway blocked by Ingrid putting both arms up on the doorway where she’d been standing. “Did Victor touch you? Did he molest you?”

“Please move.” The teen pleaded, avoiding her grandmother’s intense gaze as her own eyes stung with tears that she was beyond determined not to let fall. SHe swallowed and steeled herself when it was clear the woman wasn’t going to let her go. 

“Answer me, Emma.” Ingrid said sternly, grabbing the girl’s chin and bringing her gaze to hers, only to have Emma close her eyes and jerk her chin away before quickly ducking under her arm and making a break for the stairs quickly. “Emma!”

“Goodnight!” 

…

Sometimes Emma felt lonely. Achingly lonely. It usually came in waves at night when she would lay still and allow herself to think too much. It would always make her chest ache and her eyes quickly follow suit and it was something she despised. It’s weakness. She pushed it down with incredible force, silently telling herself to embrace that lonely feeling, to make herself feel at home with it because when it really comes down to it she’s really only ever had herself and if that’s how it’s going to be then she needs to be a ferocious one-man army. A force to be reckoned with. 

Otherwise, she’ll cry. 

When she was younger and she’d cry and cry and cry, it never helped anything. They were just tears. They weren’t magical and they didn’t miraculously provoke people to stop and think. Emma Swan quickly learned that tears could not move mountains. So, she stopped turning to them. They were a waste of time and they didn’t help, so why bother? Her tears weren’t going to bring her father back from the grave. Nor were they going to stop her mother from drinking. Her tears weren’t going to make Victor stop and think before he hopped into bed with a twelve year old. The blonde had learned all of that through trial and error.

Tears didn’t help, but she eventually got over it and started experimenting in things that might. Like drugs and parties where no one knew her story and boys and girls who didn’t mean anything and all that relief was temporary, but it was something. They were all still more effective than tears. Her tenacity was better than tears. The walls she built and her intelligent mind that strategically pushed people away before they got to close was better than tears. Anything was better than tears. Tears made her feel like all her defenses were being washed away right along with them. Like she was bare and vulnerable and weak. And she hated it. Tears were off the table for Emma Swan.. most of the time. Sometimes, like tonight, they had a mind of their own and the teenager could not help but let them escape, muffled sobs quickly following them as she allowed herself to feel a little more than usual. Finally.

…

When Emma slowly and cautiously descended the stairs the next morning, blue-green eyes scoped the parts of the first floor that she could see for her grandmother, almost sighing in relief when she didn’t see her. Sound traveling from the direction of the kitchen did peak her interest though because it sounded like two voice were in a heated conversation and last time she checked it was just her and her grandmother there last night. Looking out of the front screen door, being as the front door was propped open like it usually was during the day, as she descended the stairs, Emma blanched, noticing her mother’s car parked out front. That had to be who was in the kitchen with her grandmother.  
Quietly padding towards the kitchen, the teenager stood just beyond the doorway so that she could hear what all the fuss was about without being seen and dragged into what sounded like an argument.   
“-liar! My husband never touched her. He looked me in my face and told me that he never touched her! I swear she’s doing this to get back at me for shipping her here for the summer and I am not going to feed into her little game. She’s gone too far this time, mother. Emma is out of control!” Her mother’s hushed whisper yell reached her ears and Emma’s not sure what surprised her more, the fact that she was actually here or the fact that she was being courteous to a ‘sleeping’ Emma by whisper yelling. 

“I honestly can’t believe you right now.” Ingrid scoffed and Emma heard the sound of one of the kitchen chairs being pulled out and jumped, assuming that one of them was leaving, but she instead heard it creak as someone, Ingrid she assumed, so sat down. 

“I can’t believe you, mother. This is Emma. You don’t know her like I do. She was doing ecstasy in the ninth grade! I couldn’t even tell you how many times and types of drugs that I’ve found drugs stashed about in her room and had her lie to my face about it! I’ve witnessed that child lie about so many things that I’ve lost count, but dragging Victor into this to get back at me is too far! Even for her! He loves her.” Mary Margaret rambled shrilly, and Emma’s heart clenched at her last statement. “He really does. And he’s just as hurt and, and confused as I am about this. I mean, really. What is she thinking?”

“Mary Margaret that is your daughter. You gave birth to her. You go and you look at her and ask her and tell me that you don’t see something in that girl’s eyes. I believe her.” Ingrid said strongly and Emma felt a rush of love for her grandmother, who was willing to defend her when she wasn’t around. To her mother of all people, even when their relationship was obviously rocky enough without them disagreeing. It was touching. 

“This is ridiculous.” Mary Margaret mumbled and Emma wasn’t able to move quick enough before she heard footsteps coming in her direction. “Emma!” The woman called before she rounded the corner from the kitchen to the hallway and stopped short when she spotted the thin blonde in the hallway already. “Oh.” 

“Mary Margaret.” Emma greeted her coldly, cocking an eyebrow at her and setting her with a challenging look. If she wanted a fight, she’d got one.


End file.
